


adrenaline rush

by souhiyori



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chasing, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, Sadism, Violence, but like consensual...theyre into it, takes place during the most recent manhunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/souhiyori/pseuds/souhiyori
Summary: During manhunt, George knocks Dream down to one heart. Instead of immediately killing him and winning, they drag it out a bit.(or: george beats dream up real bad, and dream enjoys it way too much.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 517





	adrenaline rush

**Author's Note:**

> ok i got really carried away,, i started this bc i wanted to see george go a little apeshit....but it was me who ended up going apeshit lmaO oops this is a massive 180 from what i did the other day fjhgdjhf
> 
> for context this takes place between the two 1v1s against sapnap in the 4 hunters finale rematch. theyre all still friends, manhunt is still smth they do for fun, and minecraft is still a game w the same mechanics, but its like a simulation where theyre in the game,, idk it makes sense i promise lol

Dream really can't catch a break. His heart is thudding, blood rushing loud in his ears as jumps out of the water and sprints through a birch forest. He feels like he’s been running forever; he’s hardly stopped since they began. His legs ache. He’s been low on health for ages.

“Where are you, where are you?” Bad asks, and Dream takes a second to heal when he notice’s Bad isn’t close enough to hit him anymore.

“We’re right behind you,” George calls. “Do you have a flint and steel?”

“Stay with him, stay with him,”

Dream weaves through the trees, hoping to lose them. It’s been intense, they’ve been hot on his tail this whole time, knocking his health down dangerously low time and time again. He can’t decide if he’s unlucky for having them always so close behind him, or if he’s lucky for surviving this long.

He ducks behind a tree, healing as much as he can while peeking back to see how far they are. He can’t see or hear them anymore, so he takes the time to get some wood to make a smoker. He’s on edge. He’s looking over his shoulder every few seconds, wondering when they’ll catch up. 

They can’t be far. He’s got to hide. Just as he turns to leave, he hears Sapnap, voice quiet in the distance.

“George!”

“What?” George’s response sounds way, way closer than Dream had anticipated, and it sends another spark of fear through him. Dream steps to the side, warily looking out and seeing George. He’s got his back turned to Dream, looking in the direction he came.

“You left!”

George lifts up his goggles to rest on his head, then gasps. “Sapnap’s here!” 

Dream takes that as his cue to leave, immediately jumping across the water behind him that splits two forests and running through it. He’s thankful for the trees, zig zagging as much as he can to try and hide his path.

After a couple minutes of running and not hearing anyone chasing him, he slows to a stop, looking behind him. He sees nothing, hears nothing, and lets out a loud sigh. He slumps against a tree, letting himself catch his breath. Doing this is always so much fun, he really enjoys it, and he knows his friends do too, but god does it wear him out. The four of them have improved a _lot_ as of recent, and while it makes the chase that much more fun, it also makes it more difficult for him. He likes the difficulty, though; it’d be boring if he knew he’d win every time.

He lets himself slide down the tree trunk to the floor, resting his arms on his bent knees and tilting his forehead to rest on his arms. It’s always stressful, but this time he’s hardly been able to lose them for even a moment. He knows realistically that they’ll find him again soon, but allows himself the rest.

He lifts his head from his arms, looking straight ahead. He’s reached the end of the forest, and up ahead is a small field with a mountain at the end, the right side of it descending into a beach that overlooks a large ocean. He bets the stronghold is that way, looking at his things and cursing when he remembers that he’s not got any eyes or even pearls.

Looking over his shoulder one more time, he decides he’s got a little while and takes a moment to sort his stuff out. It’s been too hectic, and his bag is a mess. He’s got a weird stash of stuff; horse armour, blaze rods, a potion, but somehow only one piece of uncooked chicken for food. That’s bad.

Just as he thinks to go find some more food, he hears a voice. His heart skips, and he whips his head around to peek behind him, immediately turning back around again when he sees George walking through the forest, looking around.

“Sapnap, are you still behind me?”

Dream scrambles, shoving his things away so quickly that he might as well have not organised at all. He grabs his shield from where he’d laid it against the trunk of the tree.

“Sapnap?” George’s voice is getting closer. “Sapnap! Oh my god, stop going off on your own,”

Dream dares another quick look. George is super close now, but still alone. If he’s fast and stealthy, he can probably get away without George seeing him. He gets to his feet quickly, ready to leg it, but in his haste he’d not shut his bag properly, and a glass bottle of water falls out and to the ground, smashing.

He pauses. He looks down at the broken glass by his foot, then slowly turns his head. George is staring directly at him, eyes wide, compass in hand. They’re both frozen, and time seems to stop for a second. The goggles on George’s head slip the tiniest bit. 

Dream considers running. He’s got enough wood for a boat, though he supposes there's not enough time to make one. He’s about to turn and run anyway, when he notices George’s empty hand twitch in the direction of where his sword is holstered to his hip, and Dream springs into action. 

Before George can get his hand on his weapon, Dream is right in front of him, and he’s tanking a hit to the shoulder from the blunt side of Dream’s axe. He stumbles back, shoving the compass quickly into his bag before drawing his weapon and blocking Dream’s next hit. He takes another step back, trying to put space between them. Dream grins; he must not have had full health coming into this.

“Come here, George!” Dream calls, lunging forward and swinging his axe again, George evades it, side stepping Dream and striking Dream’s shield.

“No, you come here!” his voice is strained, but George is smiling despite it. He lifts his sword again.

Dream tries to step back, but his back hits a tree. He tilts just barely quick enough to avoid George’s next hit. The sword nicks him in the shoulder, luckily not hurting him but tearing a hole in his clothes. He ducks the next swing and runs around the tree, fleeing in the direction of the mountain. 

George is laughing behind him as he chases him. “Dreeeam~!”

“Leave me alone!” Dream can’t help but laugh too. It really is fun, battling like this, even if he is in great danger of getting hurt.

He gets to the base of the mountain and considers his options. He could try to take George on down here, hope to pick him off while he’s away from everyone, or he could climb the mountain and see if he can escape over the other side. It’s not a particularly tall mountain, so it shouldn’t be too much of a risk. In any other situation he wouldn’t hesitate to kill George right here, but he’s wary that he’s low on hunger and can’t regen anymore. He hears George healing behind him, so he decides to climb the mountain.

“Running away?” George calls. Dream doesn’t respond, just makes his way up as quick as he can. He’s grateful that it’s mostly stable, and gets about halfway up before stopping. Looking down, he sees George struggling a little. Feeling like being a dick, he laughs loudly.

“You’re so slow!”

George looks up, and narrows his eyes at him. Dream laughs again, but stops abruptly when George pulls out a crossbow, aiming it right at Dream. 

“What the hell, when did you get a _crossbow_?!” Dream yelps as an arrow shoots past him, just barely missing his head, and he gets back to climbing. 

“None of your business!” George sounds smug, and Dream yells again when another arrow whizzes past him, dodging to the right. 

“Stop shooting me!”

“Oh yeah, like I’m gonna stop because you asked me to.” An arrow hits the back of Dream’s boot and he stumbles, grabbing onto a rock protruding from the mountain. He bends down, pulling it out, and flinches when another shoots past his head.

“How many arrows do you _have?_ ” 

“Enough.”

Dream decides to start climbing around the mountain instead of just straight up. If he goes straight, he’s just a line shot for George, and he figure’s if he goes around he might be able to see what’s on the other side quicker.

The arrows slow as George gets back to climbing too, a couple coming here and there but luckily missing. When he gets to the top, Dream runs to the far edge. Behind the mountain is a normal, empty field stretching as far as he can see, and he groans. He’d hoped to see a village or something to get food from, but there’s nothing, there’s hardly even any animals down there.

He looks down. This side of the mountain is much steeper than the side he’d came up, so going down probably isn’t a good idea, especially now knowing George has a crossbow and could easily knock him off. 

He scratches at his cheek under his mask, thinking. He’ll probably have to fight George up here. If he acts confident, he can probably get George to think he’s got better stuff than he actually has, and get him to run away. He whips around when he hears George’s panting breath, and sees him pulling himself up to the top of the mountain.

Dream extends his axe in front of him as George walks toward him slowly, crossbow in one hand and sword in the other.

“Where are you gonna go, Dream?” George is smiling, looking confident despite being out of breath from climbing. He lifts his crossbow up, already loaded, and takes a step forward. “You’ve got nowhere to run.”

Dream fleetingly thinks he looks good like this, cocky and strong. He doesn’t get to see George like this often; most of the time in these he’s running away, panicked and screaming. Dream smiles. Power suits George.

“ _You’ve_ got nowhere to run.” Dream counters, taking a small step back. He feels the edge of the cliff behind him and distantly considers jumping and hoping to land on a ledge instead of falling all the way, but he’s startled when George drops his arm holding the crossbow and swings his sword. 

Dream ducks just in time, side stepping around him so he’s not on the edge anymore. He flounders a little, trying to stand up straight, but George keeps swinging above his head, stopping him from properly getting his bearings.

“You’re so annoying.” Dream grumbles, managing to lift his axe up and hit against George’s sword on its next pass. He uses all his force to push against it, and it works, George swaying a little on his feet at the pressure and rocking back. 

Dream steadies himself on his feet, bringing his arm up to rub the sweat off of his neck with the back of his hand. He doesn’t expect it when George comes running at him almost immediately. He lifts his shield half a second too late, and he cries out when George’s sword comes down hard on his left upper arm. 

His shield drops to the ground and he staggers, pain flaring through him. There’s a hole ripped through his sleeve, and he’s bleeding already. Wobbling backwards, he holds his axe out again to try and put some distance between them while he gathers himself.

George keeps walking toward him, and Dream curses as he kicks Dream’s shield away out of reach. “You must be low, right?”

He’s not that low, actually. He was on full health before that hit, so he still had seven hearts. That didn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt, though.

“No, I’m good.” Dream manages a pretty composed voice, feeling satisfied with himself when he sees George’s confident smile falter for a second.

His arm throbs, and Dream wants badly to clutch at it, but he still needs to hold his weapon. He steps back when George gets closer. His heart is hammering in his chest as he looks left and right, looking for anything he can use to distract George. He remembers that behind him is the ocean.

“Have you guys found the stronghold, yet?” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” George says, trying to be vague but instead letting Dream know that the answer was no. He smiles when George is as close as he can be, centimeters away from the end of Dream’s axe. Dream gently prods it forward, tapping George in the chest.

“You should go back to the others and find it. I think it’s that way.” He nods his head backward, and watches as George’s eyes flit from his face to the ocean behind him, back to his face. “Unless you wanna die up here and respawn super far away.”

George cocks an eyebrow. “You’re just trying to get me to leave you alone.”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

They look each other in the eyes for a moment, before George lifts his sword again. Dream gets ready to evade a hit, but is startled still as instead he brings his sword down on Dream’s axe, applying force and pushing Dream’s arm down with it. He lifts the crossbow, and Dream hardly has a second to respond. He flails backward, turning and running, jumping off of the edge of the mountain. An arrow catches on his sleeve, tearing another hole. 

Looking down from up on the mountain top, he was sure the cliff's edge was close enough to the water for him to land in it. From mid air though, as he’s falling, he knows he’s not going to make it. He closes his eyes, praying it’s not far enough to kill him.

He lands, and he screams. 

He screams, curses in pain as he hits the sand of the beach, but at least he’s alive. He rolls, body thudding hard against the ground as he goes, before slowing and ending up on his back. His legs are in agony from taking most of his fall, his ribs hurt when he breathes in, and he swears. _One heart. Lucky._ He cracks his eyes open and looks up. Through bleary vision he sees George descending the mountain.

He can hear his heart, he can feel it beating in his fingertips. Adrenaline rushes through him, and the pain, while it hurts like hell, starts to burn hot and _good._ His legs feel numb, and the gash on his arm is warm where it stains his clothes. He thought dying would suck, but his body and brain are buzzing. He feels high.

“No chance you lived that… How?!”

Dream hears George’s footsteps in the sand, coming closer, and he flinches. He attempts to pull himself up, but every part of him protests, so he flops back down. From the corner of his eye, he can see his mask a few feet away, cracked and half buried in the sand. 

George walks over until he's stood at Dream’s left, looking down at him with that same confident smirk that Dream likes to see on him.

“No idea. It fucking hurts.”

“I bet.” George drops the crossbow somewhere in the sand and holds his sword out towards Dream, nudging just under his jaw to tilt his head towards him and resting the tip lightly against his neck. “Want me to put you out of your misery?”

Dream takes a moment to just look up at George. His head is aching, and maybe it's because he’s starting to feel delirious, but something about this situation is _hot_ to him. In the back of his mind he’s always known he likes doing these a bit too much. He likes Manhunt, he likes the adrenaline rush and gets high off of the danger. There’s no thrill like the one he gets after only barely avoiding a trap, or narrowly making it out of a 3v1 against guys in full iron.

The chase is always the best part. He’s got great stamina, and he loves the feeling he gets when he knows that they’re only _just_ too far to catch him. He knows he loves it, _they_ know he loves it, and he knows _they_ love it too.

He sees the way Sapnap’s eyes shine, childishly eager whenever Dream turns around to fight him one on one. He hears the way Bad’s voice pitches in excitement when they get good gear, or they find the stronghold first. He notices the way Ant stays a few steps back when they rush him, can practically hear his brain whirring as he thinks of their next move and looking smug when he’s not fooled by Dream’s traps.

And, right now, he can see George’s casual yet somehow powerful stance, the way his arm doesn’t tremble with the weight of his sword in his hand. The way he tips his head back to look down his nose at Dream, dark eye’s glinting with cockiness. The way his tongue flicks out to lick his lips before settling back into that smirk as he stares him down.

He sees all of that while feeling the cold iron of George’s weapon against his skin, sharp point right on his throat. He feels all of it while his body aches hot and painful and so, so good. While his head is throbbing and his heart is pounding and he’s one heart from death. 

Having the usually pretty cowardly George above him like this, about to kill him… _God_ , it’s hot.

Blinking a few times, Dream draw’s in a shaky breath. His lungs burn. George’s eyebrow is raised, expectantly waiting for Dream to respond. Dream drags his aching arm across the sand, feeling around for his axe. He sees George’s eyes watch his movements then look a little further away, presumably to where Dream’s weapon is laying out of reach. 

“No point in trying, you’re just gonna hurt yourself even more.” George’s eyes are back on him, and he presses his sword down just a fraction firmer in warning.

Dream doesn’t know why he doesn’t just kill him right now, it’d be so easy. A voice in the back of his mind whispers for him to beg him for it, beg George to kill him here just to see how he’d respond. Dream exhales slowly. Okay, he’s curious to see what a truly bloodthirsty George looks like, so he decides to push.

“You really want to win like this?” It's a miracle he’s able to keep his voice relatively steady. He feels the sword dig slightly into his Adam's apple when he talks. “Most of that was fall damage. Even if you finish the job, it wouldn’t have been _you_ that really killed me.”

He’s trying to rile him up now. He knows there’s no way he’s getting out of this alive, so why not have fun while he can? It’s dangerous, but what does he have to lose?

Obviously, he’s lost to them before. He can’t count the amount of times they've done this; of course he’s had his losses. But it’s never been like this. It’s never been just him and George, alone, far from the others. It’s never been with George standing above him while he himself can barely move. He’s never had time to think before getting killed. It’s never been dragged out like this before. 

He hurts, but it feels so good to _feel_ the pain for once. The way his legs ache like they're on fire, the way he can feel bruises forming on the back and sides from tumbling, the way his ribs feel like they’re crushing with every breath. He never usually gets to experience this; usually it’s over before he knows it, before he can really understand the extent of his wounds.

George must be feeling it too, Dream thinks, the adrenaline, the tension, how perfect this is. He’s got to be enjoying himself, revelling in having the upper hand. Loving the rush of power. He has to, otherwise he would’ve just killed Dream the second he realised he couldn’t fight back.

“Shut up.” George bites, smirk morphing into a frown as his eyes narrow. “You jumped because of me. I did this.”

Dream cries out as George punctuates his sentence by knocking his foot lightly against Dream’s leg. He’d hardly used any force, but Dream feels it flash all the way up his body, and he has to screw his eyes shut to compose himself.

He breathes deeply, in through his nose, out through his mouth until the pain in his leg settles into a dull tingle. When he opens his eyes, his breath catches. George is smiling again, wide and sadistic in a way Dream has never seen on him before.

“ _I_ did this.” George’s voice is quiet but firm, steady with no room for argument. Dream just stares up at him, mouth slightly agape, his brain fogging.

This is new. He’s always being hunted, but he’s never felt like _prey_ before. 

It’s _perfect._

“If you did this,” he pauses, sucking in another breath. He feels like he can’t get enough air. “Then finish me off.”

“Is that what you want?” George tilts his head to the side slightly. “Are you giving up? That’s not like you at all.”

For once, Dream isn’t sure. Half of him is screaming _yes,_ wanting so badly to see George’s face as he kills him, but the other half wants this to drag out forever, wants to be tortured by George until he can’t take it anymore and he’s begging for it to end. 

He doesn’t know where this masochistic desire came from, but he lets it bubble inside of himself, lets it course through his veins. He guesses it’s always been there, in the way he always puts himself in these dangerous situations and pushes his luck. He doesn’t respond to George, just darts a tongue out to wet his dry lips, keeping eye contact. Dream doesn’t think he's ever been so aroused in his life.

“ _I_ got you this low. _I_ decide when you die.”

George’s face switches, smiling sweetly down at Dream. He’s about to open his mouth to say something, but George’s boot comes crashing hard into his side, a forceful kick right to his ribs. Dream cries out, heavy arms drawing in to hug at himself. He tries to curl up into himself, but the sword at his throat stops him, along with George’s foot coming down to press at his legs, stopping him from moving.

“Did you take any damage from that?” George asks. Dream’s head swirls, before he notices his health bar. His tired arms drop back to the floor.

“No, one heart still.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, George lands another kick in the same place, drawing another pained yell from Dream. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, to keep eye contact even as tears fill his vision. 

“What about that?”

“None.”

A third kick to the same spot has him crying, tears spilling down his cheeks as he yelps. It feels _amazing,_ and he doesn’t know why. George’s foot comes back up and he stamps down hard on Dream’s stomach. He grinds his heel into the flesh a little, and Dream wails.

George brings the point of his sword down, slowly tracing down Dream’s neck and stopping right above his heart. Dream’s breath stutters as he watches it, before looking back up.

“Tell me when you’re on half a heart.” George says, casual as if this was any normal conversation, before pulling his sword away and sheathing it back at his hip. 

He steps with all of his weight on the foot pressed on Dream’s stomach, smile growing wider at Dream’s choked cough. 

Dream can hardly think. His heart rate is through the roof, he can feel it hammering in his chest, and can hear it in his ears. Under George’s boot, butterflies are churning violently in his stomach. Somehow, he manages to speak.

“Are you enjoying this?” He’s breathless, but he wants to piss George off. He wants to make him angry, make him unable to hold back. “Acting like some big, strong hunter?”

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

“You shouldn’t. This is all pure luck for you.” Dream coughs when George steps harder on him again. It’s working. George is so _easy_. “You never would’ve gotten me in this position without luck.”

His vision whites, neck jerking to the side as George removes his foot from his stomach and kicks him full force in the head. He hardly hears the pained, desperate groans he’s letting out, biting on his tongue and coughing on his own saliva.

He feels George’s hand grip his hair forcing his head back to look at him. George is crouching next to him now, cheeks red and eyes darker than Dream has ever seen them. He looks _pissed,_ and Dream feels proud of himself. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” 

Dream manages a laugh, but it gets cut off into a gasp when George twists his grip painfully.

“Why are you still fighting me? You can’t win. Are you getting off on this or something?”

He laughs again, a short wheeze. His head is spinning.

“Uh, I dunno.”

Dream watches George’s face intently as his eyes flash with something dangerous. He blinks, and his gaze slowly trails down Dream’s body. The hand he’s not gripping Dream’s hair with reaches out, and Dream shudders when thin fingers touch lightly over his crotch. If he wasn’t in so much blissful agony, he would definitely feel ashamed that he’s hard right now, but all he can do is grin around shaky breaths.

George’s eyes flick back up to his face. “What, the hell…” disbelief is clear in his voice. He yanks Dream’s hair again, biting the inside of his cheek at the way Dream’s whimper sounds more like that of desperation than pain. “...I can’t believe you. Really?”

“Don’t-” Dream starts, straining his neck up to try and let up some of the pressure from George’s hand in his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t like it too.” 

George’s hand on his crotch suddenly grabs at him, squeezing painfully hard for a second before letting go completely. Dream cries out, back arching, more tears gathering in his eyes. He continues.

“You love it too, right?” Dream can barely get his voice above a whisper. “You really, really want to hurt me right now. You’re getting off on this too.”

“So what if I am?” George’s brows furrow, and he rests his hand on Dream’s stomach. 

“Do it.” Dream breathes. George’s fingers twitch above his navel. “Do it. Hurt me, right now. You want it, I want it, hurt me.”

George seems to think for a second, eyes flicking across Dream’s face, before deciding. His hand tightens impossibly more in his hair, forcing his head up before slamming it back down into the ground. Dream groans, and at the same time, George’s other hand pushes hard down on his stomach, right in the sore spot where his boot had been earlier. 

More tears start to flow down his cheeks as he sobs, and he hears George laugh. He’s never heard that sound before, high pitched and bright, yet so _scary._ He wants to hear it again. 

Dream feels himself breaking. He’s usually composed, tactical and focused in ways that let him avoid situations like these. He’s usually strong, stronger than George, stronger than all of them. He _is._ He is those things, but right now, as he feels euphoria mix with his pain, he cracks, and he doesn’t want it to end. He needs to know how much he can take.

He wants George to keep looking at him with that viscous grin. He wants George’s hands everywhere, brutal and unrelenting, doing as much damage as they can. He wants George to tell him, quiet and low just for him to hear, all the ways he’s wants to torture him.

Both of George’s hands leave Dream’s body, and Dream relaxes slightly into the sand. Feather light, George’s left hand comes up, swiping his thumb over Dream’s wet cheek. He lets out an embarrassing whimper when George pulls his hand back, looking at his thumb for a second, before dragging his tongue over it. Tasting his tears.

“Fuck,” Dream’s hands twitch at his sides, arms too heavy to move but wishing so badly he could reach out for George. He’s a little stunned, and actually kind of scared, at how easily George has fallen into this role.

“You’re so weird, Dream.” George is smiling again, all cute and sweet, but his words are coming out like venom. “You’re so fucking _weird_.”

George stands, and Dream’s heart stutters a little as he looks up through wet eyelashes. George steps over him, so he’s standing directly over Dream with a foot either side of his torso. He just stares down at him for a moment, taking in the heaving of Dream’s chest, his red, tear stained cheeks, the little gasps and grunts he’s making on every outward breath.

He lifts his right foot, positions it right over Dream’s left shoulder. He rests it gently on his joint, just above where the gash is on his upper arm, fixing Dream with a stare.

“Is that why you started this?” 

He presses the toe of his boot down slightly, only a slight pressure. Dream looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Is that why you get us in on these Manhunts? Because you get off on it?”

The pressure increases a little. 

“You get us all to chase you around, fight you, all because you’re a little freak who likes the thrill?”

He presses harder. Dream’s shoulder blade digs painfully into the sand. He gulps.

“Because you like the pain?”

He shifts his foot slightly and suddenly he’s leaning on Dream’s shoulder with his whole weight. Dream’s eyes close on instinct, and he lets out a loud, high pitched moan. It feels like his shoulder is about to dislocate, and the rubber sole of George’s boot is way too close to his wound. 

“Open your eyes. Answer me.” George’s voice is more commanding than Dream has ever heard it, and he doesn’t think before he does as he’s told. God, he’ll never get over that beautiful, sick smile.

“No, I…” Dream trails off, mouth feeling dry. He doesn’t know what to say.

“That’s gross. You just want to be hurt for your own pleasure, so you’ve been using us to get it.”

“No, really, it’s not like that,” Dream tries, because it’s true, it really isn’t like that, but he’s losing the will to fight back, to be snarky. It seems like he doesn’t _need_ to anymore; George is already exactly how Dream wants him to be.

“You should’ve just said so,” George grinds his foot hard into Dream’s shoulder joint, snickering when Dream’s voice cracks when he cries out. “If you just asked me to beat you, break your bones and make you bleed so you could get off, I would’ve done it.”

Dream breathes in as deep as he can. “No, you wouldn’t have.” He chokes out. “You would’ve held back.”

“Yeah, probably.” George lifts his foot from Dream’s shoulder and places it back on the ground. “I guess it’s good things that turned out this way, then.”

Dream tries to regulate his breathing. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, like he’s high. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his pants, and he wants so badly to ask George to touch him, but he doubts he’ll listen.

Dream’s eyes trail up George’s legs as he takes a few steps back. He’s got great legs, Dream distantly thinks, slender but strong, good for running. He stops when he’s standing above Dream’s thighs. He lifts his foot again and taps the toe of his boot against Dream’s hip, smiling at the way he winces.

“This is so hot, though,” George breaks character for a second, taking a second to let his eyes rake over Dream’s battered body. He uses his foot to gently tug the hem of Dream’s top upward, exposing his lower stomach. Dream lifts his head as much as he can to look down, and they both let out quiet gasps when they see a big, boot shaped red mark covering his abdomen from George’s stamp earlier. “That’s _so_ hot, oh my god, Dream…”

“Yeah,” Is all Dream can really manage, dropping his head back down into the sand.

“I wish I didn’t have to hold back,” George sighs, tracing his foot over the mark, pressing gently into it every now and then to watch Dream flinch. “I wish I had you like this with more than one heart. I have to be careful.”

“Yeah,” Dream repeats. He’s never felt so bad and also so good in his life. 

“I wish I had you at full health, I wanna fuck you up so bad. I want to watch you cry as I knock you down heart by heart.” He presses hard into the spot, and Dream sobs, back arching. He can feel his dick twitch.

“God, George, it’s so good, it’s so good,” He cant stop himself from babbling.

“You’re such a pretty crier.” His sadistic smirk is back as he watches the tears flow down Dream’s flushed face. “You wanna do that one day? We could come here alone, no Manhunt, just me and you, and I could destroy you in every single way I want.”

Dream licks his lips, his mouth feels so dry. “Please, god, that’d be perfect,”

“Over and over and over, too. I wouldn’t have to worry about killing you by accident.”

“You could kill me now, if you don’t want to hold back.” 

“Yeah? You really want to explain to the others why you lost?” He lifts his foot from his stomach, moving to instead apply harsh pressure right on Dream’s hip. Dream gasps, and George continues his previous train of thought. “We could come here and spend as long as you want. Do whatever you want. It wouldn’t matter how hard I beat you, how harsh I am, you’d just respawn right next to me and I could do it all over again.”

“ _George,_ ”

“You’d love it. I know you would, look, I’m just kicking you about a bit and you’re that hard.” He looks down at Dream’s straining crotch, then back up to make eye contact. “I want to break you over and over and over before you could cum.”

“I love you,” Dream pants out, he’s not even thinking, his mouth just spilling words without his permission. He says that a lot, it’s his thing, but in this situation it just makes him sound pathetic.

George laughs, loud and cruel. His foot lifts from Dream’s hip and he pulls his leg back, driving it forward to kick forcefully into Dream’s left side, just under his ribs. Dream jolts, the force knocking him and he rolls onto his right. George kicks again, and Dream moans pitifully. He can feel the bruises forming, the way they flash hot with pain every time George’s boot connects. He feels like he could cum from just this.

“You’re such an idiot. You don’t even make sense.”

When he kicks again, full force, the hardest he had yet right to Dream’s ribs, Dream _screams._ His whole side feels like it’s on fire, and his arms draw around his middle on their own, clutching at himself. He shuts his eyes tight, chin pulled down to his chest, his cheek presses into the sand.

“George, George, George,” He’s panting, winded. He can taste his own tears. “Half a heart, I- half a heart-”

George immediately draws back, dropping his foot back to the ground. He’s still for a moment, watching Dream gasp for breath, before crouching down, hand resting gently over his side. He ghosts his fingers over the forming bruises, feather light, soothing.

“You okay?” His voice is quiet, fond. Dream relaxes under his soft touch.

“Yeah,” he manages to get out, wheezing slightly.

“You sure?”

Dream hums, slowly opening his eyes and turning his head to look at George. He smiles as best he can, and he bets he looks a mess right now. He guesses he’s right, because George is looking at him with eyes full of pity, a kind smile on his face.

“Never better.”

George laughs at that. “That’s a lie. I’ve actually never seen you in worse shape.”

“Mhm. Feels good, though.”

“Yeah?” George’s other hand reaches up to Dream’s face, holding his cheek in his palm and dragging his thumb softly across his wet cheek. 

“Yeah.” Dream nuzzles into George’s hand, and chuckles quietly. “This is the best day of my life.”

George laughs too, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.” 

They stay like that for a moment, Dream catching his breath, before George presses his fingertips lightly over the bruise forming on Dream’s ribs. His eyes roll back, a quiet moan falling from his lips and he turns his head out of George’s hand to fall back to the sand. George smiles.

“You want me to continue? What do you want?”

“Wanna suck your dick.” Dream says, mouth forming words before his brain can even finish the thought. He didn’t mean to say it, but the look on George’s face is so funny that he thinks it’s worth it.

George chokes on his own breath, a loud, confused laugh leaving him. “You-” he sighs, shaking his head, and Dream smiles. “Okay, I think I kicked you in the head too hard earlier, you’ve lost it. You can’t even sit up, no.”

When Dream rolls to lay back on his back, pushing up on an elbow to try and sit up, George pushes him back down. “No.” He chuckles at Dream’s pout. “Another time. How much more can you take?”

Dream takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He focuses on his body, on what hurts and how; on his numb legs, his aching ribs, his burning shoulder, his throbbing head. He whimpers, feeling his jaw sting when George’s hand goes back to his face, gripping his chin and rubbing his thumb over his lips.

“Probably not much,” Dream says, quiet as George pulls down on his lower lip before letting go and watching it snap back into place. “I want everything, it’s so much, but- yeah… half a heart.”

Dream feels himself gets lost in George’s eyes as they look at each other. He’d never noticed how expressive they were before, or how beautiful they looked under the sunlight, how they were so dark he feels like he could fall into them. Yeah, maybe he _has_ lost it, he thinks.

George’s other hand comes up too, and he moves his grip so he’s holding Dream’s face gently in both palms. He slides both thumbs across his cheeks and over his nose. A soft, loving smile spreads across George’s face, and his voice drops to a whisper when he speaks.

“I wanna break your nose so badly.” He presses one of his thumbs to the side of Dream’s nose, just a slight pressure. He drags it slowly down, over the tip, over his nostril until it rests just above his lip. “You’d look so good with blood dripping down your face.” He rubs his thumb over Dream’s lips again, and Dream imagines he’s smearing blood from a bloody nose across them. George sighs. “Next time.”

Scorching heat floods through Dream. George’s pretty eyes, his innocent smile, his soft voice, all of that with his brutal words; Dream can’t breathe. He can’t stop his full body shudder, and he feels his dick leak in his boxers.

He whimpers pathetically, staring into George’s eyes pleadingly. “ _George_ ,” He breathes, voice hoarse. “Okay, okay- please, either get me off, or kill me right now, ‘cause I can’t- _shit_ , please kill me,”

George laughs, his tone instantly shifting. His sweet expression flicks immediately back into a sadistic, mean grin, and fear flashes through Dream’s chest. The hands on his face squeeze, squishing his cheeks.

“It’s so hot to hear you beg for me to kill you.” His voice is still low, but no longer kind. Dream swallows. “I actually thought this would end with you pleading for your life.”

He lets go of Dream’s face and stands back up. Dream watches him intently as he looks to the side, spotting Dream’s forgotten axe and bends to pick it up. When he turns back to look at him, axe in hand, Dream bites the inside of his cheek. Seeing his own weapon be held by someone else, by the guy who’s breaking him, it’s terrifying in the best way.

He just holds it at his side as he looks Dream up and down. He can practically _feel_ his gaze burning into him, and he squirms.

George lifts his foot once more, and for a second Dream thinks he’s about to get kicked again, but instead his boot comes down to rest over Dream’s crotch. He quivers under the touch, biting his cheek even harder to stop a loud, embarrassing keen. His hips twitch, and god, it feels so good, just the tiniest pressure on his neglected cock.

“Think you can finish like this?” George asks, dragging his shoe slowly up his clothed erection. Dream nods frantically, eyes screwing shut as he gasps. George giggles meanly above him, pressing down just slightly firmer. 

“Good.”

Dream cries out, hips bucking up against George’s shoe, and he feels like he’s going to pass out. His brain feels like jelly. He distantly wonders how the hell his life got to this point, where he’s laying on a beach, beaten within an inch of his life, with his best friend's shoe pressing against his leaking dick, and _enjoying every second of it._ God, he really is a freak. 

If he wasn’t so out of his mind in pain, he’d feel ashamed by how close he already is. Pleasurable heat pools in his stomach along with the pain, and he cries out, hips jerking, trying to get George to give him just a little more.

“Not enough?” George asks, as if he doesn’t know, smiling wickedly.

“Please,” Dream doesn’t even recognise his own voice. “Just- I’m already so-”

“Shh, shh,” George hushes him. He applies just a little more pressure, and even that has Dream groaning. “You’re so loud, calm down.”

Dream’s thighs start to shake, and he can’t stop the pathetic moans he keeps making. It’s so good, so, so good, he never wants it to end. Every sharp jolt of pain that sparks through him feels like ecstasy, and he’s _so_ close already when George moves his arm holding Dreams axe and points the flat, blunt top end of it right down towards Dream’s bruising stomach. George looks between Dream’s face and stomach, then his face again.

His grin grows impossibly wide, twisted and cruel. He stares right into Dream’s eyes as he presses the blunt end down hard into the boot shaped bruise on his stomach at the same time he grinds his foot down hard on Dream’s dick.

Dream curses, yelling out loud as his body shakes, twitching violently, unsure what sensations to chase and which to run away from. Another press of George’s foot and push into his stomach has him coming, hot tears flooding his cheeks as he cries. 

The pain all fades away, only numb, static pleasure filling his body, and he’s _sure_ he’s actually about to pass out this time. He’s never cum this hard in his life, and it feels like it goes on forever, George’s boot still moving beautifully against him as the pressure is lifted from his sore abdomen.

George stays above him, rubbing him through it until he twists his hips away, whining out at the overstimulation. His foot is gone, and Dream feels his muscles relax. His fingers feel tingly, and he can distantly feel that he’s still shaking a little. For a second he thinks he’s died, that George killed him and he’s about to respawn, but then the pain is back and he’s biting his tongue to stop from groaning.

He feels a hand in his hair, and looks up to see George has moved and is now crouched next to him like earlier. Unlike earlier though, the hand in his hair this time is gentle, carding through soothingly, ruffling out the sand and scratching lightly at his scalp. Dream melts into it.

“You still with me?”

Dream tries to laugh, but the action hurts his lungs. His throat feels destroyed. “I think so.”

“That’s good.”

Dream lays as still as he can, trying to calm down. Every breath in stings, and the sun above them suddenly feels way too bright, burning his eyes even when they’re closed. George stays with him, hand petting his hair, occasionally moving down to run a thumb across Dream’s eyebrow before threading back in his hair.

Once his heartbeat slowly starts to calm down, Dream talks.

“How come the others haven’t found us?” he asks, and wow, his voice sounds _wrecked._

“I have the compass.” George supplies. “I thought about that part way through, actually, but then I remembered I have it.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah.” George snickers, scratching a little behind Dreams ear and making him shiver. “I would’ve had to kill you if they’d came.”

“Bet you wish they had. Bet you wanted to show off in front of them.” Dream teases weakly.

George rolls his eyes. “No, I bet _you_ wish they had. You were asking me to kill you at the end there, you weirdo.”

Dream pushes himself up on an elbow, ignoring the ache when he moves, and glares at George. “Oh, come on, don’t start. You wanted to do it. You kept saying how bad you wanted to fuck me up.”

George ignores him, instead pushing at his shoulder to lay him back down. “Hey, be careful, you’re gonna kill your _self_ if you keep moving.”

“What does it matter, I’ve already lost, haven’t I?”

Instead of responding, George stands. Dream watches him, confused, as he makes his way across the sand to where he’d dropped his crossbow. He picks it up, putting it back in his bag. 

“...Haven’t I?” Dream repeats, uneasy.

George is still quiet, eyes scanning the beach. He spots Dream’s mask, looks at it, seemingly contemplating for a second, before he kicks it across the sand to land next to Dream’s head. Dream has to shut his eyes quickly so sand doesn’t fly into them. When he cracks them open again, George is back at his side, rifling through his bag. He pulls a few items out, then couches down next to him again.

“Here,” George places some bread on top of Dream’s chest. “Eat it.”

Dream just stares at him. He was _sure_ George was gonna kill him here. He’s in the worst state he’s ever been in, it’d be the easiest win yet. 

Then he remembers what George had said earlier. _“Yeah? You really want to explain to the others why you lost?” ..._ Okay, that makes sense.

“And this.” George draws his attention again, and Dream looks at where George places a bottle next to him in the sand. He looks back up, quirking a brow. George just blinks at him. “Potion of healing. Uh, don’t ask where I got it.” 

They just look at each other for a moment before George’s hand goes to his hair once again. He strokes through it a couple times before letting go and standing back up. Just before he turns to leave, he leans down, picking up Dream’s axe and taking it with him.

Dream panics a little, confused as George starts to walk away, back toward the mountain. “Wait, wait!”

George looks over his shoulder. He fixes him a look. “Aren’t you gonna eat that? Go on, heal up.”

“But- I-” Dream stammers, looking at the bread. He looks back up, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

George smiles, nodding back, then drops it and narrows his eyes at him.

“I’ll stall them for 20 minutes. With that-'' He nods towards the potion on the ground, “-it won't take you long ‘til you’re back to normal.”

“Right,” Dream is still a little confused, but he pushes himself to sit up, taking a bite of the bread.

“20 minutes,” George repeats, and when Dream looks at him, he’s got that sweet smile on his face. It makes Dream shiver. “After that, I’m leading them right here. You’re gonna wanna be gone.”

George walks away, and Dream watches him as he makes his way to the base of the mountain. Honestly, his brain is still playing catch-up. He’d almost forgotten that they were mid way through a Manhunt, that there were others besides just George looking for him. 

Just as George is about to start climbing the mountain, he turns, lifting Dream’s axe up and pointing it in his direction.

“I don’t care about what just happened,” George calls. “Next time I see you, you're dead.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns back around and makes his way up the mountain. Dream watches his back the whole time, and continues staring at the mountain top for a while after he’s gone, too. After a moment, he sighs, flopping back down onto the sand.

He grabs at the potion next to him, uncapping the bottle and downing it. He coughs a little, choking from trying to drink while laying down, but he quickly feels the potions effects work their way through his body. His headache slowly fades, and while the bruises on his body stay, the dull constant ache leaves him able to move more freely.

He lays for a moment, too mentally exhausted to get up. That… was a _lot._ Did that really just happen? He shifts his legs, and suddenly he feels his boxers sticking to him uncomfortably. Okay, yeah, that definitely happened.

He wants to stay for a while, to chill out after whatever the hell that was, but he notices the sky changing. The sun is beginning to set, sky slowly turning orange. He curses, grumbling as he moves to stand up. His muscles still ache, but he’s pleasantly surprised by how easily he’s able to move. Potions really are overpowered, he thinks. 

He looks through his bag, happy to see his belongings were still there and fine. Well, all except for his shield that he’d lost on the mountain, and his axe that George had just taken. Arguably the two most important things. He groans.

_Damn it, George_ , he thinks, and he looks around him, trying to figure out his next course of action. He remembers the other side of the mountain, the large empty field, and decides to just go for it. He should get as far away as he can before George leads the others here.

Before leaving, he bends down and picks up his mask. He dusts the sand off of it, and sees the big new crack that was now running across the center of it. _Kinda badass._ He smiles, pulling it into place over his face, and sets off.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ....gonna go write smth nice and cute for these two now lmaOOO im actually not sure abt this i dnt rly like it but i spent time on it so.... here.. crabrave i guess
> 
> IF U LIKED IT THO, PLS LMK!!! :D!! comments make my day uwu lol <3
> 
> also my twitter is [here](https://twitter.com/jumpfloating) if u wanna hang out over there!! tysm for readin !!! <3


End file.
